


Beneath the Skin

by KoganeVarietyPack



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Planet, Angst, Blood and Gore, Everyone gets a little focus, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Original Alien Species - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ships to be determined
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoganeVarietyPack/pseuds/KoganeVarietyPack
Summary: It had been enough time since Keith's Galra heritage was revealed, and while tensions were still a little high and some unease lingered, everyone had assumed things were back to normal. Things were fine. It was almost forgotten about completely.Until one visit to a peaceful and cooperative planet and suddenly Keith can't stop his mind from screaming, can't keep his limbs from tingling, can't keep his flesh from itching.He can't help feeling he deserves this.





	Beneath the Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there kiddos. I haven't written a fic in years really, but I decided to give VLD a go when my friend came to me about an idea she was excited about. 
> 
> I know its delayed, and it isn't much, but I hope you like it at least a little, Sara.

In the middle of an imbalanced intergalactic war against a barely-mortal tyrant, they had found a lull in misfortune. Short staccato spurts of fleet battle was currently being drowned out by copious amount of supply missions, and attempts at diplomacy with the worlds they encountered in their efforts. Allura and Coran insist that this is as necessary as fighting the Galra head on...

So then how in the _hell_ did he end up doing menial farm labor? Oh right. He's a fool. Thats how.

His gloves only do so much to ease the strain of hard wooden edges, and after making three trips hauling crates (what was even in these? Produce? Tools? Fertilizer?) his muscles give a light cry of strain. Time for a break. He doesn't want to linger here forever on some weird alien farm, but theres no real point in pushing himself with something as simple as carrying blue wood crates back to this couple's storage shed that so happens to be inconveniently placed on the exact opposite corner of the property from where the tractor truck is. His break decided on, Keith settles himself at the somewhat sturdy looking fence nearby, perching on the top horizontal beam after setting his cargo down and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He tucks a few errant strands of dark hair back behind his ear and scans the farm he's found himself on. The red clad young man feels that while it isn't as large as some of the others he's already seen, it has a certain charm to it. Its covered in rich deep green grass near what looks like a coop (but theres definitely not chickens in there, the noises tell him so) and has areas with wide sections of dirt and soil that look like they're in need of plowing and tilling again. There aren't many crops that are matured enough for Keith to take note of and compare it back to Earth agriculture, but the trees that line the outer boundaries of the plot look a deal different than what he's used to; with deep navy blue scales of bark and reddened leaves shifting and shuddering with each warm gust of wind that tumbles its way through the branches. It's weird, and a lot of things are discolored here, but nothing is mind-boggling so far. The blue trees remind him of dog woods, somehow.

But as calm as this place is, he rather get back to the Castle of Lions and get to training. Urgh...

Somehow this always ended up happening: They make contact with a neutral or oppressed planet, rid the area of the Galra (if they were around) and then land the Castle of Lions at the outskirts of their most populated area so that they could greet the civilization's leaders alongside Allura. The altean princess did most if not all of the talking when they were attempting to propose an alliance against the Galra Empire, and if it ever proceeded, the set up negotiations always ended up being a long and boring process that the paladins hardly felt they had any use in (except sometimes Shiro, and Coran as well). So that left the rest of them pretty idle, and being antsy as they all were after being in a damn tin can in space, they always ended up mingling with the common people, wherever they were.

Keith figured there was some good in it, even if it was boring. More mundane missions like this gave the team a moment to bond, and gave them a chance to interact more closely with the people they were saving, as well as get a bit of a break from the pent up fight or flight conditions of head on battle with the Galra. Shiro had phrased it well, and in a way that left little room for any of them to give a rational refusal without looking like a brat. Keith still didn't care much for it, he'd never been much of a socialite - but he had managed to keep his dissent private and in his own head (unlike Pidge), or at least...he had managed to keep himself from groaning _at the time_ , but now he can't seem to bring himself to see the bright side.

He let out a sigh, lost in his own introspection. Were there footsteps coming he wasn't hearing? Entirely possible. Keith continues to think.

The planet of Uapra is in a sector on the edge of the empire, inhabited by vaguely isopodal looking people with two upper arms and three equidistant crab-like legs, as well as hardened carapace skin. They have small feeler like appendages at their backs and characteristic ridges on the sides of their torsos. They're odd looking, but similar enough to humanoids in the way of facial expression and body language, which made the paladins and Allura get along with everyone rather quickly. The technology the Uaprans have is extremely primitive compared to what Altea and Voltron had at their disposal, but it has its own appeal. Hunk compared the place to the 1920s when it came to technology: they had gotten the hang of radio communication and engine transportation, but agricultural means of living like farms, crop markets, and livestock stalls were still rather common. Industrial advances were on the rise, but at least where the paladins had been set loose after being booted from negotiations it was clear: rural life reigned supreme.

Which is why Keith ended up where he is - smelling of high phosphorous soil and wood-chips. The four of them had wandered into the center of town together to take a look at things (Hunk had been chatting with one of the leaders and they had mentioned a delicacy of theres they simply must try) when they ended up splitting off on accident. It was bound to happen now that he thinks about it, they always fell away from each other after searching for their own interests. Hunk had wandered to the local butcher for said delicacy and to possibly get supplies for cooking back on the ship (goo is getting old, Keith has to agree), Pidge ended up chittering off to a couple who couldn't get their new model mobile working, and Lance was busy talking up one of the bar patrons that was smoking her cigarette out front, purple smoke rising off the tip and into the orange tinted sky.

Which left Keith to wander on his own, until he stumbled upon an older couple of Uaprans trying to unload their truck. The wife (he thinks) dropped one of the crates and it had started a bit of an argument between the two - but it was clear that they were a just bit passed their prime. The offer to help came naturally, and Keith couldn't help but feel good about the relief that showed on both of their faces. Their son normally helped them, but he was feeling ill, and ' _Natine's joints aren't the easiest on her anymore_ '-

Theres something on his head that rips the red paladin from his thoughtful mood, little scaled hands picking through dark locks and mussing them up before turning, repositioning, and crawling down the back of Keith's armor.

"Fuck!"

He can't help losing his cool, startled into practically toppling off the fence and into the dirt, squirming to get his chest plate off and get this squirming thing off of him, holy shit what-

Theres explosive laughter on the other side of the fence that could only belong to one person, and it makes Keith's blood boil. The brushing of scales at his chest and sides thankfully stops by the time Keith has tossed off his upper armor, but not before he's been dusted with crop soil and dry dirt, his hair a mess from the little fiend that crawls out of his shirt: a tiny little black lizard, its tongue sticking out for a moment before it skitters off to the coop to terrorize whatever is in there instead of him. If it hadn't just crawled all over him he would have thought the little guy was cute, but. Not now.

"Wow mullet head, haha, that was a beautiful impersonation of a salmon flopping upstream. Bravo-" Lance snickers from his place on the other side of the fence. While he titters, Keith braces himself up into a sitting position with his arm, rubbing his fingers through his hair to fix it as he gives the blue paladin a look of grouchy contempt.

"Don't you have anything better to do other than terrorizing me?" Keith bites back.

"So many things I could be doing right now that don't involve you, but how cruel would that be to deprive you of my attention?" Lance fires back with mirth, hand pressed to his chest and body language infused with a comical and self-doting nature. Keith has been trying not to get so riled up by him, but in the face of the brunette acting like he's god's gift to the universe? Suddenly Keith doesn't give a shit about reigning it in.

A retort is on the tip of his tongue, biting and bitter in nature - before his expression flickers with realization. Play it cool, Keith.

"So your bar girl didn't want anything to do with you." He responds, calling him out with the flattest tone known to man. Lance devolves into indignant sputtering at that, and Keith gets to his feet, rubbing at the back of his neck and trying to brush dirt off of himself, his skin tingling the longer the soil dusts him. He collects his armor chest plate, shoving it back on over his shoulders and adjusting it in place.

"No! She was totally enraptured, she just had places to be." Lance counters. "Besides, I was just talking to pass the time."

"Sure you were, Lance." Liar.

"I was! You just wouldn't know pleasant conversation even if it bit you in the-"

"Last I checked pleasant conversation normally involves more than cheesy pick up lines."

An appalled gasp, followed by a haughty recovery, as Lance places his gloved hand over his heart. "Live it up, Kogane! One day you'll come around and realize why all the ladies flock to me instead of you and then you'll be begging me to teach you how to schmooze."

"Yeah because I'll definitely be looking to make out with anything that breathes."

"Oh, I'm sorry, should I have said men? You know I can help you get a bo-" Lance starts.

"Shut. It." Keith stops him, and there comes the headache. He really regrets letting Lance in on his preferences. What a mistake. Heart to hearts were not sacred, apparently.

"Ouch, so sharp. You wound me, knife boy."

"Good."

Keith picks up the crate he was lugging from the ground once more, his skin suddenly singing for a shower, and his patience begging him to turn the other cheek before they get into it even more. Shiro isn't around to break it up, though. He could get in a few satisfying swipes...

The message client Pidge had placed into their armor gave a light chirp in alert, telling him he'd received a message from none other than the black paladin himself, and addressed to everyone. Keith's gaze flickers to it, drowning out whatever blather Lance was assaulting his senses with.

_**[00:13:28]** TS: Wrap up what you're doing and report back to the castle, guys. All the talks are done - we're launching in 30._

Damn it. Is he even going to manage to finish hauling all of this and get back in time? Not that they would leave without him, but he would prefer not to get any more stern and disapproving looks from Allura than he already does. Things are still somewhat tense between them, and while they consider the Blade of Marmora close allies at this point, Allura's guard is hard for her to let down. Its an ingrained habit, and Keith gets that, really he does. The effects still linger with each chilled turn of her shoulder, however.

"Lance. Here." Keith shoves the crate he's holding into the blue paladin's arms, successfully halting his barrage of spaced comments and irrelevant topics, which Keith hadn't even been paying enough attention to know what it was. Lance gives him a look of confusion, before trying to give it back.

"Oh no, no no no don't you shove this work off on _mi, no tengo el chichi pa farolillos_ -"

He shoves it back into Lance's chest, brow knit in hot and fatigued irritation yet again. "Shiro said we have 30 until we leave, so you're gonna help me or I'm gonna smash this over your head." Oh threats, the best way to get what he wants. Not.

"...Fine, fine. Lets hurry up." For once Lance isn't being stubborn. The threat probably didn't work as much as the image of Shiro and Allura both standing with imposing stares and folded arms, but Keith will let himself think he's intimidating. Just this once. He heads back to the truck for the rest of the cargo, the desire for a shower spiking up again as he brushes more dirt off his legs, and gets back to work.

 

\--

 

While they arrived for take off at the last minute, the two rivals managed to avoid any stern looks. Keith chalks it up to everyone simply already being out of the hangers by the time they arrived.

"Coran, for the last time, nobody wants the paladin meal! Please-" Hunk, as polite as he can be, seems to have had his culinary patience worn thine again. Keith and Lance enter onto the control bridge, large sleek metal doors sliding open to signal their arrival. Keith notes the fleeting glimmers of stars and the shrinking image of Uapra off in the corner of his vision. Allura must have lifted them off while they were walking up here. Huh.

Lance and Keith don't go unnoticed. Shiro glances over from where he's standing at the rim of the raised dais where Allura always and presently stands to maneuver the castle. Pidge, in their usual seat but sat perched on the arm rest and facing the center of the room, gives a casual wave.

"You lot just can't stomach such a delectable beast among nutrient platters! The nerve!" Coran and Hunk are at it this time. Keith figures its best not to get involved. Lance, however, is more than ready to voice his opinion.

"He's right, Coran my man, that paladins lunch is more like actual grubs instead of food!" The squeak in offense Coran lets out is comical. The squabble continues.

Keith wordlessly drops his helmet at his seat, and walks over to Shiro. The man seems as he always does, despite just having to brave diplomatic relations for hours. He's still in his armor, though, just as Keith is.

He gives Keith a sweeping and casual once over. "You're filthy."

"Blame Lance. Decided it was hilarious to prank me while I was helping some farmers." Keith grumbles, folding his arms and slouching just so.

Shiro lets out an amused puff of air, and a smile. "He never lets up with you, does he?"

Keith shifts, and favors his left leg to place his weight on. "He's the catch to having amazing piloting skills. An annoying self-appointed rival."

Despite Keith's words, Shiro seems to look at him in a way thats telling to his thoughts. _I know you don't mean that anymore._

"How'd it go?" Keith changes topics, glancing back to the others as they talk side by side. Lance has taken the brunt of the food argument now. Pidge is taping away at their control screen.

Shiro shrugs lightly. "As good as expected. Not really that noteworthy. I don't know how much help the Uaprans will be, but." He trails off, the sentiment obvious. He's distracted by Coran and the blue yellow duo knocking the idea of him cooking down for tonight, back on a combined offensive. Keith hums, eyes resting on the set of the black paladin's posture instead.

"Considering the tech? They won't be helpful. Maybe just raw supply donors. I don't get why we bother." Despite Keith receiving an almost admonishing look for being so forward about it - Keith can see that he kind of agrees, he just won't say it in front of Allura. The corner-of-the-eye glance Shiro makes in her direction tells him so.

"It's always good to have numbers." He answers vaguely. Keith scratches his cheek, bored with the topic already. Allura finally breaks up the bickering.

"Coran, Lance, Hunk, enough! Please, we have made wonderful strides. Your arguing is pointless." She clasps her hands together, turning away from her controls. "We made yet another political ally. Today is a good day." She exclaims with calmed joy.

Pidge finally pipes in. The talk of food bored them into silence. They twirl a lock of loose hair around their index finger. "That's all well and good but whats the plan now? Not to offend but we haven't planned an attack in nearly two weeks? Space weeks? Whatever."

Allura grows thoughtful. "We suffered a lot of loss in the last battle we had. We are low on supplies."

Hunk plops heavily back into his seat in the back corner with a tired sigh. "Some repairs on Yellow and Green still need doing. Need the parts for that." He adds, rests the meat of his cheek in his hand. Coran nods in agreement, heading back to the front of the room. Shiro tracks his path, without realizing.

"If supplies are what we need, why are we doing diplomatic mission after diplomatic mission?" Keith fires off, brow knit in irritation. "Thats not supply gathering, its stalling."

Allura places her hands on her hips, lips scrunching in dissatisfaction. "A war is not all about fighting, Keith! We must be political. Support is just as important, no matter how small."

"As funny as it is seeing Lance fail time and again to flirt with aliens, I side with Keith. This feels more like useless stalling." Pidge cuts in again.

"I, Wha-Hey! Look, I don't fail, its just a little fun I don't plan on it going anywhere anyway." Lance defends, his pride bruising. Shiro lets out a sigh, the starting sign of his patience being tested. He looks out to the front windows out into space as he speaks.

"Neither of you are wrong. We can't just have the Blade of Marmora as our only allies, even if they're the most helpful. We can't just make a political campaign either. Coran, Hunk, we can figure out everything you'll need and set out for it in the next day or so. In any down time we can do the usual training in preparation. We'll launch something soon, guys. I know its frustrating." As always, Shiro's word is taken well enough by everyone. It douses any embers in the fire pit. Keith's still burn a little hotter than the others.

"I'm going to take a shower." He says, an unintended bitter tone to his announcement. He needs to get out of here. Theres been far too much interaction today and he still feels caked in chemically treated dirt.

"Make sure to come down for dinner!" Hunk calls as Keith is heading down the halls, the doors only closing seconds after his retreat. Keith plans on it, but he really doesn't care much about eating right now. Its hard for him to pinpoint why, but perhaps it was just one of those days. They used to happen far more often back on Earth: a day where everything feels dull and muted, and bodily sensations feel distant at best; washed out and faded with the underlying sense of over-exposure and exhaustion. The thing is, though, Keith had slept just fine the night before. Sure, perhaps he didn't go to bed early, but he had sufficient enough rest despite it. He's always been a night-owl anyway.

 _Just an off day,_ he reasons.

He arrives at his door in the barracks soon enough, pressing his hand to the pad in the wall and stepping inside. He doesn't bother to give his room or how messy it may be a second thought as he sheds his armor, and his underlying spandex and clothing, until he's in just his navy boxer briefs. Keith scratches his sides, and the tops of his shoulders, discomfort boiling over as he barefoot stamps his way into his small bathroom to turn the hot water on.

The bathroom steams quickly, fog starting to creep on the edges of the mirror as Keith gives himself a quick glance over, and then peels off his last article of clothing before flinging it into the corner to retrieve later. He scratches his ass with lack of shame, and steps into the burning spray of the shower.

He's always loved his showers scalding hot, liquid fire gliding over the slopes and curves of his shoulders and down his back, dampening his dark hair and plastering it to the back of his neck, his forehead, the bend of his jaw. He barely feels the sting it leaves when it seeps into a surface cut on his right shoulder he hadn't realized was there, too content with the heat and roiling water enveloping him. The pitter patter of falling water against the tiles is just as soothing. Keith feels at peace in the shower. Perhaps thats why he always takes such lengthy ones.

He wonders if he was too short on the topic of getting back into battle just ten minutes ago. He's been listless and antsy, but at least with these sorts of missions he had gotten fresh air that he needed. He's always been an outdoors boy, and not that he's in the overwhelming sterile vastness of space, he's often left irritated by the lack of a biological environment. Even with that being provided today, though, he's antsy in the most negative of ways. Its snuck up on him so suddenly.

Keith ruthlessly scrubs his scalp with shampoo, suds bubbling and bursting to life in his wet locks of hair as he lets his mind continue to wander. While he controlled the situation as usual, Keith wonders if Shiro was only trying to simmer him rather than sympathize. Often times thats a dilemma Keith comes across: figuring out where the leader of Voltron ends and Shiro begins. What is genuine? What isn't? The man is a very good liar as well as a good actor, and Keith knows that often times things may only be said the way they're said to get the job done. Even after the many years he's known Shiro, sometimes Keith second guesses his perception of him. Its frustrating. They've talked about it before, about how sometimes despite knowing one another the best, he still has a hard time.

 _"I'm not all that simple, Keith. Theres a lot going on with me."_ He had told him.

He had known that, too. Shiro is a complex piece of work. Keith's impression of him was also complex. He was not so much a superior to Keith as he was someone who had his utmost respect. In time all of them had gained Keith's respect, really. They were his closest friends. In a way they were family as they so often joked, but then again, Keith had never had a family. He's not quite sure what being a family is like. He just agrees, and lets them move on. Regardless, he figures the burning protectiveness he has for all of his friends is a good indication that he couldn't find better people to care about.

His friends have Keith's loyalty and respect. They have his care.

Question is, did he have theirs? Did he deserve theirs?

_Enough. Too much thinking._

Keith shuts off the hot water after rushing his hair conditioning and rinsing, not wanting to let his sudden bout of depressive introspection progress any further. His day will be even worse if it does. The pilot towels off, and tugs on a fresh set of clothes comprising of black pants and a red shirt, before he storms out of his room for dinner. He tries to be quick and leave his aggravated anxieties behind in the shower, but a residual itch tickles at the back of his neck.

 _Just an off day,_ he reminds himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if there will be ships in this, there probably will be, and I'm sure you can already tell what my favorite is. Tags will be added along the way to accomodate new content and give warning. 
> 
> If theres decent response to this prolog/first chapter I'll try my best to finish. I have a bad habit of abandoning things. Regardless, enjoy! 
> 
> -Kel


End file.
